


Two Lost Stars

by loviedovielou



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Sexual Coercion, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-20
Updated: 2015-05-20
Packaged: 2018-03-31 11:35:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3976576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loviedovielou/pseuds/loviedovielou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Louis paled. He felt off balance, like his world had suddenly tilted off its axis, which, well, it kind of had. He tried to steady himself, tried to think of something to say, but his brain was failing him. Everything was failing him.</i>
</p>
<p>Or, Harry and Louis meet up in Dartmouth for Easter Holiday, and they’re both hiding things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Lost Stars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> This fic spiraled out of control and became an angst-ridden mess along the way. I am so, so sorry. Also there is no celebration of Easter, oops. 
> 
> Please be sure to reads the tags for triggering content!!! I cannot stress this enough you guys.
> 
> Massive thanks to E for being the best beta a person could ask for. And thanks to the mods for organizing this entire thing!
> 
> Hope you don't hate it.

Louis stood on the platform waiting for his train.

According to his phone, the train would be arriving in one minute.

Zayn stood to his left. He was Louis’ best mate. “Are you sure about this? It isn’t too late to change your mind and come to London with me and Liam."

"Yes, it is,” said Louis. His voice was quiet and solemn. “I already paid for my ticket. It would be a waste of money if I didn’t go."  
  
Zayn sighed. “Take care of yourself, alright? And call me if you need me."  
  
“Okay."  
  
The floor began to quake, a steady vibration pulsing beneath their shoes that only meant one thing: the train was coming.  
  
Louis turned to Zayn, their eyes meeting. Zayn had worry lines, and the skin under Louis' eyes was dark and bruised, and they were placing the blame on finals, but finals had nothing to do with how awful they looked and felt.  
  
“I’ll see you in two weeks,” Louis told him.  
  
The train slowed to a stop in front of them, and the doors opened.  
  
“Call me if things turn to shit,” said Zayn, “and we’ll get you a train up to London, or better yet, head up to Donny and see your family, but don’t stay in Dartmouth festering in that bullshit, Lou."  
  
Louis forced a smile and hugged his mate. “I’ll be fine. Go and enjoy London with Liam, and stop worrying about me. Harry and I are going to be fine. We’ll figure this shit out."  
  
Zayn looked as unsure as Louis felt, but he hugged him back.  
  
_Goodbye Oxford, hello Dartmouth_  Louis thought bitterly as he climbed aboard his train and took his seat. Outside his window, Zayn waved him off with a small, hopeful smile. Louis didn’t have the energy to wave back.  
  
Soon, the sight of Oxford was rushing by, and Louis was on his way.

 

//

 

Louis spent the first hour on the train in the bathroom, heaving into a toilet as guilt churned his stomach. The rest of it was spent sipping ginger ale to help settle his stomach, and texting his mum, who advised him to be a big boy and face the consequences.  
  
Louis didn’t want to face his consequences. He wanted to run from them.  
  
When the view of the sea began to sweep by, and Dartmouth was on the horizon, Louis wondered absently how long it would take for Harry to notice if Louis never showed, if he just grabbed his bags and hopped onto the next train back home without a word.  
  
He pictured Harry being upset and confused, and knew he could never pull a stunt like that off without hating himself. So when the train pulled into the station, and the doors slid open, Louis grabbed his bags and followed a line of strangers off the train.  
  
It wasn’t difficult finding Harry. He was standing near the main exit, a packed duffle bag lounging by his feet. One hand was preoccupied by his phone, eyes trained down at the screen, and the other held a Starbucks cup.  
  
He looked like the same Harry Louis had seen over Christmas Holiday; too tall, too lanky, too tired, but just as handsome as he had ever been. His hair was tied back in a bun, one strand hanging loose over his forehead. Louis smiled faintly at the sight. He adored Harry’s bun — hell, he adored Harry period, which made this whole trip even more difficult. Louis felt like a deer caught in headlights as he stared at the boy he once fell in love with. So much had changed in such little time. Louis could hardly breathe at the thought of this being his last  _hello_  to Harry.  
  
With a steady breath, Louis convinced his heart to climb down from his throat, and then, somehow, managed to convince his feet to move towards Harry.  
  
Harry's eyes flickered up and landed on him. Louis forced the best smile he could and waved, carrying forward. By the time he reached Harry, Harry had slipped his phone into his pocket and abandoned his Starbucks cup on the top of his bag. His arms were wide open, welcoming — but his mouth was not, his smile nonexistent.  
  
Louis stepped into his arms, hoping it would feel like home. It no longer did. Instead, it felt like a place he had never been before, unrecognizable. But he didn’t let go. He never let go first. That was Harry’s job.  
  
"Missed you, Lou," Harry said quietly, his words curling around the crook of Louis' neck.  
  
Louis exhaled a shaky breath, running his hand down the fixtures of Harry’s spine. They felt more prominent this go around; he wondered if Harry was skipping meals. “Missed you too, H."  
  
When Harry had had enough, he loosened his grip and stepped back. “I would kiss you,” he said, “but I taste like coffee, and I know how much you hate the aftertaste of coffee."  
  
Louis hitched his bag further up his shoulder, and shrugged. “I guess we should head to the Inn then, so we can both get cleaned up. Then maybe we can grab a bite to eat. I'm starved."  
  
Harry nodded and grabbed his things, and together they walked out of the train station in search of a taxi.  
     
Louis didn’t question Harry's missing smile, and Harry didn’t question his.

 

//

  
They would be staying in Room 14 for the following ten days.  
  
Louis watched from the doorway as Harry dropped his bag down beside the gold-framed bed and slithered past it over to the window, where pale yellow drapes hung on each side. He looked out at the view of the harbor, and silence swept in, curling around the two of them. Louis could not remember ever listening to this much silence while in Harry’s presence, too used to his never-ending laughter and his dumb jokes.  
  
Louis knew something was off, he just didn’t have the courage to ask what it was.  
  
He allowed the door to shut behind him as he shrugged off his bag, and then he turned towards the vase of fresh flowers that sat on a table opposite of their bed. They smelled sweet.  
  
His eyes flickered over to Harry again, who had yet to move. Louis frowned.  
  
“Would you like to shower first?” asked Louis.  
       
Harry didn’t look at him. “No. You go ahead. I’ll shower after you. Mum wants me to call her."  
       
Louis nodded, eyes drifting around the room. It didn’t even occur to him that Harry couldn’t see him nodding his head.  
  
He kneeled down and unzipped his bag, trying to find something a little cozier to wear. It didn’t seem like they had much planned for the night anyways.  
  
Once he had gathered his clothes, he stepped towards the small, fancy bathroom. “I’ll be quick."  
  
Harry didn’t reply, so Louis shut the door. The dark, unlit room swallowed him whole. Everything felt unsteady, even Harry, and Louis couldn’t help but feel worried for the boy. Something was wrong, Louis just didn’t know what.  
  
Then, with a sick jolt, Louis wondered if Harry knew what Louis had done; if he had somehow found out through one of their mutual friends. Louis tightened his grip on his clothes and felt like he might be sick.  
  
It was never his intention for Harry to find out what he done from somebody else. Louis thought it might be easier for Harry to hear it straight from him. Or maybe he’s being foolish—it certainly wouldn’t be the first time.  
  
Louis took some deep breaths. The air rattled in his chest. After a moment he forced himself to flip on the light and move toward the shower.  
  
Louis would know soon enough if Harry knew the truth, seeing as Harry had never been good at keeping secrets, least of all from Louis.  
  
So Louis showered. And tried his best not to puke. And cried a little. And then he got dressed, put on his big boy pants, and stepped out of the bathroom. He had been in there for roughly twenty minutes, and within that timeframe, Harry had managed to disappear.  
  
Louis stared at the empty room and wondered how appropriate it would be if he stepped back into the bathroom and used this time to puke, because that feeling had yet to go away. But then he sighed, knowing he had to at least try to find Harry, try to talk to him if he could. It was the least he could do.  
  
So he shoved on his shoes, grabbed his key card, and headed out the door.

 

//

  
Turns out, Harry was not easy to find.  
  
Louis was close to pulling out his hair as he wandered aimlessly through the Inn, searching the halls and the garden and the pool area, until frustration crept up his spine and began to spin into anger.  
  
Finally, he stopped along the front desk and asked the polite lady working if she had seen his significant other within the last half hour. Beaming, she informed him that Harry had stepped out of the Inn altogether, and Louis couldn’t help but sigh before slipping her a quick  _thank you_.  
  
After Louis stepped outside and began to walk along the harbor, he found Harry within minutes lounging on a bench. “H?” he murmured tentatively, seating himself on the bench.  
  
Harry shook his head a little, his way of confirming that he didn't want to talk about it. Truth be told, Louis didn't want to talk about it either, but they kind of had to…right?  
  
“We can’t just avoid it, Harry.” Louis sighed a little.  
  
Harry turned his head to look at him at that. “Avoid what?” His green eyes narrowed. Then he shook his head again. “Listen, Lou, I’m fine, okay? Just needed some air. I don’t know,” he let out a breath and sagged back against the bench. “I just don’t want to talk tonight."  
  
Louis swallowed. A knot settled in his throat, growing bigger with each passing moment. He couldn't get rid of it. “Okay,” he said, voice small, stomach swooping. “So what do you want to do tonight?"  
  
“Eat,” Harry shrugged, “and sleep. Finals were a bitch."

“They really were,” Louis nodded solemnly. “Well I suppose that can be arranged. There’s a cafe around the corner. Let’s grab some grub from there and then pass out."  
  
Harry’s head suddenly settled on Louis’ shoulder, and Louis’ brows shot straight up. A thought dawned on Louis; if Harry knew—like really knew what Louis had done, how badly he had fucked up—there’s no way Harry would be cuddling him. Surely not. Harry would have been fuming, possibly crying, and perhaps even trying to drown Louis in the harbor. Not refusing to talk about it and acting like a kitten.  
  
Relief tugged over Louis like a protective blanket, and he burrowed himself inside of it, fearful of coming back out. But by the end of their trip, he knew he was going to have to come clean. There was no way around it. Harry had to know what Louis did—how he had slept with another person, a person who wasn't Harry. But it didn’t have to be tonight, he realized. It could wait. For now his boy needed food, cuddles, and rest, and Louis was determined to give that to him until the shit-storm arrived and destroyed everything they were together.  
  
He patted Harry’s thigh. “Come on, love. Food awaits us.”

 

//

  
Their second day in Dartmouth does not turn out the way Louis had expected it to.  
  
His eyelids peeled open at 5:06 a.m., and he could nearly cry. Aggravated by the early schedule he had stumbled upon lately, he flipped over onto his side and was met with Harry’s calm, warm body. Louis buried his nose in his boy’s curls, inhaling the strawberry sweetness that filled him to the brim with comfort.  
  
When he fell back asleep ten minutes later, all he could think was:  _What have I done_?  
  
He woke up again around nine, and found it impossible to fall back asleep, especially with his stomach grumbling. So he snuck out of bed, tossed on some disheveled clothes, and headed out to the bakery across the street for morning pastries.  
  
When he came back a few minutes later, he expected Harry to be awake, but he wasn’t.  
  
Louis kicked off his shoes and climbed into bed, settling his chin on the top of Harry’s shoulder. “H?” he whispered. “You awake, love?"  
  
Harry’s eyes twitched. “Hm?"  
  
“I brought you pastries and coffee,” said Louis, pressing a kiss to his bare shoulder. “It isn’t Starbucks, but it smells pretty good if I do say so myself."  
  
Green eyes blinked open, and Louis smiled softly, dropping another kiss to Harry’s shoulder. “Hi, darling. You sleepy?” Harry nodded, and Louis’ smile faltered a bit.  
  
Harry had gotten at least ten hours of sleep, which was nearly unheard of for him—he was usually an early riser. Louis wasn't, ironically, but he had only lucked out with six hours, yet again proving just how much things had changed since the last time they'd seen each other.  
  
“That’s not good, love,” Louis said, “perhaps some caffeine will help.” He drew an invisible heart on Harry’s shoulder with his fingertips, doing well at pretending like everything was okay.  
  
“I just want to sleep,” Harry mumbled, burying his face further into his pillow, body pulling away from Louis.  
  
Louis stilled. “Oh."  
  
“Please,” Harry pleaded.  
  
“Okay,” Louis said weakly, “sure. Just let me know if you need anything. I’ll be here."  
  
Harry didn’t say much else, and soon after, his breathing returned to normal and he was off to dreamland.  
  
Louis got up after that and tinkered around. Munched on a lemon pastry, made himself a bitter cuppa, and sent various panic induced texts to his mum. Before he knew it, the sun was setting, and Harry had yet to move, and as worried as Louis felt for the boy, he decided to leave him be.  
  
_Tomorrow will be better_ , he told himself.

 

//

  
Louis awoke at a quarter till six on Day Three. The room was orange and glowing as the sun peaked on the horizon, rays of light streaming in through the curtain.  
  
He rolled over in search of Harry’s warmth but found the other side of the bed to be empty, Harry’s heat missing from the sheets. Pushing the covers away, Louis sat up, rubbing the fog from his eyes as they darted around the room, panic and confusion folding over him.  
  
His heart settled a second later when he spotted the light from the bathroom spilling out from under the door, and the sound of the shower spray. Curiosity tugged him further awake. He strained his ears to listen for the familiar humming that always filled the air when his boy showered, but the air was empty and strange.  
  
Tempted to climb into the shower with Harry, Louis forced the idea away and lay back down, tugging the covers over him until the chill creeping along his skin vanished.  
  
Harry exited the bathroom fifteen minutes later, feet silent as they moved across the floor. Louis squeezed his eyes shut and wondered if he could get away with sleeping all day like Harry had yesterday, suddenly nervous to face him. What was he to say?  
  
Louis could hear him tinkering with his bag, the sound of clothes shuffling nearby. Then, a moment later, his name was being whispered, and Harry’s weight was dipping the mattress.  
  
“Louis? … Don’t kill me, okay,” he said, “but I need you to wake up now."  
  
He sounded normal, like he was Harry again, rather than the stranger who had taken over his body for the last two days, and that was a good sign it seemed. So Louis pried open his eyes and rolled over, only to find Harry leering over him, green eyes bright and slightly bloodshot. Louis wondered if he had been crying, but decided now wasn’t the best time to ask.  
  
“Well, hello there,” Louis said, voice low and sleepy.  
  
A sheepish smile curled at Harry’s mouth. He smelled like peppermint. Louis wanted to lick the fresh minty taste right out of his mouth until it was all that he knew.  
  
“I know it’s early,” started Harry, “but I have an idea for today if you’d like to join me."  
  
“Oh yeah?” Louis’ brows rose.  
       
Harry nodded, his smile growing. He dipped down and caught Louis’ mouth in a kiss. When he pulled back, happiness was splayed across his face, making Louis’ heart jump. “Up, up, up!” He hopped down from the bed and appeared to be half naked, not that Louis minded.  
  
“What's the hurry?” Louis laughed, sitting up.  
  
“No time for explanations. A taxi is meeting us out front in fifteen.” Harry tugged on a shirt, damp curls unraveling as the collar caught his hair before springing back into place. “Get dressed."  
  
“Okay, okay.” Louis dragged himself from bed. “I guess today is your day then."  
  
Harry threw a rumpled t-shirt at him. “Every day is my day, Louis."  
  
“Why of course, Your Majesty.” Louis bowed playfully. “My mistake."  
  
Harry sprung for another kiss, then strolled into the bathroom in search of an extra hair tie.  
  
Louis stood back watching, stomach clenching, hoping so badly for Harry’s sudden good mood to be a permanent resident, or there was no way they were going to make it another seven days.

 

//

  
After a twenty minute taxi ride that consisted of sleepy silence and being blinded by the sun due to forgetting his sunglasses, Louis stepped out of the taxi to the view of a wild ocean, Harry’s hand clasped tightly in his.  
  
The first chance he got, Louis whipped off his shoes and sunk his feet into warm sand, while Harry was off to the side spreading towels down.  
  
Louis had to hand it to him, Harry had truly come prepared. With him, he had brought a bag filled with towels, sunscreen, and bottle watered, plus a picnic basket and a small cooler. Louis was still unsure of where he had gotten them from, but figured the Inn had provided them.  
  
Breathing in the smell of saltwater, Louis stared ahead at the ocean, wondered if he could get away with drowning himself.  
  
“If you think you’re going out there without sunscreen,” said Harry, “then you are sorely mistaken."  
  
Thoughts vanishing, Louis turned to his boy and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, if you insist."  
  
Harry beamed, smile white and happy. “I do."  
  
They rubbed sunscreen over each other’s skin and had a bit of banter. They fed each other fruit from the picnic basket—Harry had also brought sandwiches, but they were saving those for later—and they laid out in the sun, enjoying the warmth spring had brought on.  
  
They acted like nothing was wrong. Like yesterday had never happened. Like they were both happy and content, and they weren’t hiding things from each other. And it seemed to work out okay.  
  
Eventually they waded out into the water, where the ocean was cold and bitter to their skin. As they got deeper, Louis clung to Harry’s chest for his warmth, legs hooked around his back, and Harry’s laugh filled his ears unlike anything he had heard in a long time.  
  
When Louis’ eyes filled with tears, he blamed it on the saltwater and the wind. Harry said nothing as he kissed his tears away, while Louis had to hold himself back from stopping him.  
  
They stayed in the water for a long time just holding each other, waves bobbing them around until their fingers and toes became prunes, and their stomachs were grumbling.  
  
“I think it’s sandwich time,” said Harry. “And then we should work on our tan. We can’t go home from a holiday at the sea without a tan."  
  
Louis had his face tucked into his boy's neck. He grunted a little, unhappy with the idea of moving. “Says who?"  
  
“Says me,” Harry grinned against Louis’ hair.  
  
Louis pulled back, drawing in a deep breath. Harry’s green eyes were staring at him. He looked happy, Louis thought, but he also looked a little lost and vulnerable, perhaps sad even. Louis swept in and kissed his mouth, hoping he could kiss away his boy’s sadness. It would never work, of course, but he could try.  
  
When they climbed out of the water after non-stop kissing, Louis draped himself over the towels and Harry draped himself over Louis, and they kissed again and again, this time until they felt dizzy.  
  
Louis’ head was positively spinning ten minutes later, and Harry was laughing as he slumped against Louis, both overcome with a strange giddiness.  
  
“I need water,” huffed Harry.

“I need vodka,” smirked Louis. “Got any in that cooler of yours?"  
  
Harry rolled off of Louis and grabbed the cooler. He peered inside and clicked his tongue, head shaking. “Afraid not, my dear. Care for a water instead?"  
  
“Why not?”  
  
A bottle of water was tossed in his direction, smacking him in the side. Louis scowled, but Harry laughed.  
  
“And how about a sandwich?” said Harry.  
  
“Well, I can’t starve now, can I?” Louis pushed himself up and crossed his legs, fingers fumbling with the cap of his water bottle.  
  
Louis gulped down some water, throat suddenly dry at the sight of a tent in Harry’s swimming shorts. Louis had one, too, but he ignored it as best he could. Neither of them seemed to have a craving for sex anyway, least of all Louis.  
  
Ignoring the obvious, they munched happily on sandwiches, feeling dazed and content. After lunch, they fell asleep with full bellies, taking full advantage of the warm sun and the semi-vacant beach.  
  
When they woke up an hour later to reddening skin, Louis pouted until Harry reluctantly called for a taxi, muttering about how Louis _never_ listens when it comes to sunscreen, and now they both needed Aloe Vera.

 

//

  
Back at the Inn, after paying the taxi fare, Harry suggested that Louis go up to their room and shower while Harry ran to the market for some Aloe Vera. Louis hesitated to agree. He felt clingy all of a sudden, as if being away from Harry scared him. Truth be told, it did scare him. Louis felt like his boy was suddenly going to vanish again, only to return a stranger.  
  
“Let’s drop our stuff at the room and both go,” said Louis, gracing Harry with a tired smile and fluttering lashes. “We could get some ice cream on our way back."  
  
“Okay.” Harry leaned into Louis and kissed the side of his head. “Let me just return these to Mary.”  _These_  being the cooler and the picnic basket.  
  
“Who?"  
  
“You know, the lady who runs this place,” said Harry. “She checked us in the other day."  
  
Louis rolled his eyes, nudging Harry’s side. “You always get to know everybody, you big flirt."  
  
Harry visibly flinched, and the air went still. “I’m not a flirt,” he said.  
  
Harry sounded hurt, making a frown tilt at Louis’ lips. “I was just teasing, love, you know that."  
  
It took a moment for Harry to finally nod, the Adam’s apple in his throat bobbing nervously. “Of course,” he laughed weakly. “Yeah, sorry. Don’t know what I was thinking."  
  
An awkward silence fell over them. It was smothering. Louis reached for his boy, wishing he had never opened his bloody mouth, but it was too late. Harry was already slipping past him, reaching for the door.  
  
Timid like a mouse, Louis followed after him, wishing the floor would open up and swallow him whole.  
  
They returned the basket and the cooler to Mary, who smiled sweetly and wished them a nice afternoon.  _Too late for that_ , Louis thought.  
  
In the elevator, between the tension forcing them apart and the silence pulling them together, Louis made a risky move by slipping his hand into Harry’s. He feared that Harry might pull away, but instead Harry looped their fingers and squeezed his hand, as if he had already forgiven Louis for his big mouth.  
  
But Louis hadn’t forgiven himself yet.

 

//

  
On Day Four, they went cycling on a trail and got lost for two hours. Louis huffed and puffed the entire way home, swearing up and down he would never ride another bicycle again.  
  
All Harry could seem to do was roll his eyes.

 

//

  
They took a tour of Dartmouth castle on Day Five, and ate lunch at the concession.  
  
Then they walked the full mile back to the Inn with full bellies and storm clouds looming over them with the threat of rain.  
  
Thunder racked the sky that evening for hours, so they enjoyed a bubble bath together, avoided sex, and cuddled in silence until sleep finally pulled them under.

 

//

  
As ludicrous as it sounds, they went hiking on Day Six. It was Harry’s idea, of course, and Louis only went along with it because it seemed he just couldn’t say no to his boy.  
  
They hiked through a trail of rolling hills and flowers, through the vast open space of the countryside. At one point, Louis reached down and picked a blue flower he didn’t know the name of, and tucked it behind Harry’s ear, making the younger boy blush.  
  
Eventually their legs began to feel like jello. They stopped and sat beneath a tree for rest, sharing water and kisses until their hearts settled and they felt strong enough to power through the rest of the way.

 

//

  
They rented surfboards on Day Seven, and headed for the beach with the intentions of Louis teaching Harry how to surf.  
  
The thing was, Harry didn’t have very good balance, so by the time he actually managed to stand on the board and ride a small wave, the sun was already saying goodbye.  
     
When he wiped out after about six seconds, he broke through the water with a big silly grin, and Louis couldn’t help but cheer from the shore, fists pumping through the air. It was a moment he didn’t want to let go of; a moment he wanted to live in forever.

 

//

  
The morning of Day Eight, Louis awoke to a dark room and the distinct sound of whispering. It sounded like it was coming from the bathroom.  
  
He rolled over in bed, stared up at the ceiling with tired, puffy eyes, and listened in.  
  
Sure, it was wrong to eaves drop, but Louis couldn’t help it. He and Harry had shared plenty of good moments over the last couple of days, but those moments still didn’t cover up the fact that something was still off with Harry.  
  
It bugged Louis to no end that Harry wasn’t opening up to him like he used to, but what bugged him even more was that Louis didn’t feel brave enough to ask him what was wrong.  
  
Everyone says that communication is key in a relationship, especially a long distance relationship. But he and Harry had clearly misplaced that key, and Louis wasn’t sure if they would ever find it again.  
  
“I don’t know how to bring it up.” Harry’s voice was a tad muffled, but Louis’ ears perked right up at that.  
  
“No, I know, Mum, I know I have to tell him. I just don’t know how, you know? And it’s just so difficult to talk about. I haven’t even told Niall.” He sounded sad. Louis swallowed anxiously.  
  
Then Harry murmured, “Maybe I’ll bring it up tonight. We’ll see. It’s just—I don’t want to ruin our holiday and I know it will … Alright, Mum, I’ll try. I better go though, Lou will be up soon. He wakes up like clockwork these days … Love you, too .. Yeah, I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me … Okay, bye, Mum."  
  
Louis’ heart was pounding in his ears. He suddenly felt a bit sick. What could Harry be hiding? He secretly hoped it wasn’t as bad as what Louis was hiding.  
  
Harry slipped out of the bathroom a moment later and tossed his phone aside. The bed soon dipped down and his cold body slid in under the covers.  
  
Louis stirred a little and rolled over, pretending to just be waking up. His eyes blinked open and met Harry’s. “Why’re you so cold?” he muttered unhappily as he draped a lazy arm around Harry’s torso and closed the distance between them.  
  
Harry snorted. “Sorry, I had to wee."  
  
Louis huffed a little. “Warn a guy next time."  
  
Harry snuggled closer. “Go back to sleep."  
  
“You first."  
  
“Almost there.” Harry poked his side.  
  
“Cheeky."  
  
“Shhh."  
  
Louis peeled an eye open. “Did you just shush me?"  
  
“Maybe,” smirked Harry, tiredly. “What’re you gonna do about it?"  
  
“M’gonna kiss you until you can’t breathe."  
  
Harry’s eyes twinkled. “Prove it."  
  
With a coy smile, Louis flipped himself over to straddle Harry’s hips. “Are you toying with me?”  
  
“I might be."  
  
Looming over his favorite boy, Louis leaned down and barely brushed Harry’s lips with his own, slowly teasing him. It was just past six a.m., and though sleep sounded nice, this seemed to be even better, and it was long overdue.  
  
“Now who’s toying with who?” Harry murmured, breath hot against Louis’ mouth.  
  
Louis grinned. “Shh,” he said, “you’re distracting me.” With an experimental grind of his hips, he found Harry’s cock to be hardening. He hummed happily at the feeling.  
  
“Lou,” Harry exhaled, arching his hips up into Louis’.  
  
Louis shushed him again, then kissed him hard on the mouth until Harry was all that he could taste.  
  
For the first time in months, Louis was letting his desire win out as he and Harry slowly started to move against each other. The friction felt too good to stop, and suddenly he wanted nothing more than to get his boy off.  
  
Louis slid a hand down Harry’s slim stomach, palming over the bulge in Harry's pants. At the slightest touch, the boy tossed his head back and groaned. Louis kissed and bit a trail down the side of Harry’s jaw, then dipped down to his neck to do the same, liking the way the vibration in Harry’s throat tickled his lips.  
  
His hand ventured further and slipped beneath the band of Harry's pants, reaching for his cock, but Harry went still, tensing against the mattress suddenly.  
  
“Stop,” said Harry, shaking his head. “Stop."  
  
Louis’ hand froze. He pulled back and looked into Harry’s eyes, only to find pain. Concerned, he yanked his hand free from Harry's pants. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Did I hurt you?"  
  
Shaking his head again, Harry’s eyes flickered away from Louis’ to stare elsewhere, cheeks reddening with what looked like shame or embarrassment. “Please get off of me."  
  
Louis swallowed roughly. A knot was growing in the base of his throat. Suddenly feeling shaky and nervous, Louis climbed off of Harry and then the bed. He snagged a t-shirt from the floor and pulled it over him, feeling weird and exposed and wrong, as if he had done something he shouldn’t have—and had he?  
  
“Harry,” he said, “what’s happened to you since Christmas? Did you-" he stopped the words from leaving his mouth, eyes squeezing shut.  
  
“Did I what?” Harry asked roughly, sitting up. “Did I cheat? Is that what you were gonna ask?"  
  
Louis turned around to face him, and found Harry to be fuming. “Well, did you?” Louis asked, voice weak and small, sounding much like he felt.  
  
“No,” Harry snapped. His brows were furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line. “It wasn’t like that, okay?"  
  
Louis was taken aback by how angry Harry was suddenly. He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen Harry act this way. “Then what was it like?” Louis threw his hands up. “Fucking talk to me!"  
  
“Oh, that’s rich coming from you,” Harry sneered.  
  
Louis shrunk back. “Wh-What are you talking about?"  
  
“You think I don’t know that you  _cheated_  on me on New Year's?” Harry yelled, face turning even redder.  
  
“What?” Louis squawked, feeling like he had been slapped.  
  
“Niall was there that night, you fucking idiot! He saw you and that guy all over each other! But were you _ever_  going to tell me?"  
  
Louis paled. He felt off balance, like his world had suddenly tilted off its axis, which, well, it kind of had. He tried to steady himself, tried to think of something to say, but his brain was failing him. Everything was failing him.  
  
“H-Harry, I-I,” he stuttered over his words. He inhaled a breath but the air felt suffocating. “I c-can explain."  
  
Harry ran a hand over his face, shoulders sinking in defeat. “Save it."  
  
Louis wanted to sink to the bottom of the ocean like never before. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry.” It sounded like the wrong thing to be saying, but he couldn’t stop saying it anyway. “I’m so fucking sorry, Harry. I regret it so much."  
  
Silence filled the room, and Harry’s eyes filled with tears. He sniffled. “I didn’t cheat on you,” he said softly, the anger inside of him dissolving into sadness. “I mean, not really—"  
  
“But something happened?” Louis cut him off.  
  
Harry nodded.  
  
Louis exhaled a low sigh, bit down on the inside of his cheek, and sunk down on the edge of the bed, feeling defeated. Every bit of him was shaking, he couldn’t make it stop. “I know you’re mad, and you’re hurt,” he murmured, “but regardless of what I did, you can still talk to me. You can still tell me things, Harry. I’m here for you."  
  
Harry wiped the wetness from his face. “It’s gonna sound so stupid. And you’re gonna be mad."  
  
“I promise to not get mad, okay?” Louis wanted to reach for his boy's hand so badly, but knew he didn’t have a right to do that now.  
  
Harry nodded a little, though he looked hesitant. Scared.  
  
“Near the start of the semester, I was failing my Lit class,” started Harry, words quiet, rattling the air and Louis’ heart along with it. "My professor called me to his office one day after class and said that I could do some extra credit work to raise my grade if I was interested, and of course I was. I didn’t want to repeat Lit."  
  
If Louis looked close enough, he could see his boy trembling, too.  
  
“I-I didn’t know at first that ‘extra credit’ s-stood for sexual favors. I swear, I didn’t know,” Harry all but whimpered, eyes flooding with fresh tears.  
  
Louis was gaping, unsure if he had heard correctly. “He coerced you into sex for an A in his class?"  
  
Harry nodded.

“Harry, God, why didn’t you say no?” Louis truly couldn’t believe what he was hearing.  
  
Shrugging, Harry wiped the wetness from his face and said, “It wasn’t so bad the first time. I was a little stunned, I’ll admit, but I felt backed into a corner, like I couldn’t say no, if that makes sense? So I went along with it. And he wasn’t— he didn’t hurt me, not really."  
  
Stomach rolling, Louis breathed in a deep breath through his nose. “How long did this go on?"  
  
“A few weeks, I guess."  
  
Unable to sit still any longer, Louis got up and paced around the room, pushing his fringe out of his eyes every few moments. He stopped in front of the bed when a new question rose from his throat, hands curling around the gold bed-frame. “Did you—" he swallowed. “Did you go all the way?"  
  
Eyes bubbling with more tears, Harry gave a hasty nod.  
  
Louis’ hands tightened as a burst of anger exploded through his stomach. His anger wasn’t directed at Harry, though—no, it was directed at his professor, a man who had used his power to hurt Harry in a way that was unforgivable. He glanced over at the window, where the rising sun was beginning to peek through the pale yellow drapes.  
  
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he said quietly. “I would’ve come, I would’ve been there for you. I would’ve—"  _I would’ve saved you_ , is what Louis really wants to say, but he isn’t so sure that he could have. Perhaps he just wishes that were true.  
  
“I thought it was over,” said Harry. “When Niall told me what he’d seen that night, I was so mad, so fucking heartbroken, Lou, and I thought we were over. I just didn’t know how to say it, so I just…” he trailed, shrugging his shoulders.  
  
“You stopped answering my calls,” Louis said.  
  
“Yeah."  
  
“I’m sorry,” Louis said again. “I fucked up so bad,” his voice faltered, and he swallowed back the sob that threatened to spill free.  
      
A small, mocking smile tilted at Harry’s lips. “We both fucked up."  
  
Louis felt like he had been punched in the stomach suddenly, as he stared at his boy, who was falling apart right in front of his eyes. “You did  _nothing_  wrong, Harry,” he said fiercely. “It wasn’t your fault. What I did—that was, that was my fault. But what happened to you, that wasn’t—you didn’t say yes."  
  
“I didn’t say no either,” Harry said, “not at first. It feels like I…” his words faded, unable to say it.  
  
“Harry,” Louis sighed, “he abused his power, love. He took advantage of you, you're not at fault for that."  
  
Harry said nothing and began to rub his eyes. "Can we just go back to sleep now, please?" he asked.  
  
Louis stood awkwardly at the foot of the bed. The room was gradually growing brighter with each moment that passed. The clock on the bedside table told him it was a quarter till seven, and though he was sleepy, and he knew Harry was as well, he couldn't actually imagine going back to sleep at that point. His brain was wide awake with new information that tangled his thoughts and made his chest ache. In Louis' eyes, sleep wasn't the answer, but to Harry it was, at least for the moment.  
  
Eyes fluttering around the room, Louis rubbed his jaw where stubble had started to grow. "Why don't we get breakfast instead?" he suggested. "Talk some more? After, we could go sit in the garden, or we could take a walk along the harbor," Louis said. "You decide."  
  
Harry exhaled a low, unhappy sigh, but crawled out of bed anyways. "Fine."

 

//

  
Two streets over from the Inn was a small cafe that opened every morning at six a.m. like clockwork. When they first tried it a few days prior, the food had been  delicious, and the quiet that flowed through the small space had been refreshing, but that morning when they walked in, the quiet was so fucking stifling that Louis could hardly focus. Or breathe, for that matter.  
  
The first thing Louis ordered was a cup of tea so strong it made his stomach twist. Then he ordered a fry up to match, and it tasted like home, reminding him that he needed to call his mum at some point today.  
  
Harry ordered coffee, of course, along with a bowl of mixed fruit that looked positively mouthwatering, and a banana nut muffin to appease his grumbling stomach. It didn't lighten his grumbling mood, though, much to Louis' disappointment.  
  
They didn’t speak much. They had only one conversation that started with Louis saying, “The food looks yummy,” and ended with Harry saying, “Yep,” and then nothing. It was as if the last seven days hadn’t happened.  
  
When Louis reached a sneaky hand over the table and stole a blueberry from Harry’s bowl, he almost expected a melodramatic reaction, though he wasn't sure why. Harry was quiet and dazed, picking at his food, and worry brewed low in Louis’ belly.  
  
Their whole dynamic was off, not that that was necessarily surprising, but Louis certainly didn’t have to like it.

 

//

  
After they managed to choke down their breakfast, Harry led Louis to the harbor.  
  
They walked for a while, eyes skimming over the river and the boats, silence putting a wall between them.  
  
It was a bit chilly out. Louis was glad he had thought to wear his denim jacket. Harry himself had dressed in a red oversized jumper, and he looked warm and snuggly, especially with his long curls tied back in a messy bun.  
  
As soon as they found an empty bench near the water, they snagged it for themselves. An empty space sat between them, big enough to fit the elephant in the room, so to speak.  
  
Louis glanced over at Harry and sighed. He had made so many mistakes over the years, but this—cheating—had been his biggest one yet. Knowing that he had hurt Harry was such a gut wrenching feeling, but knowing that someone else had hurt Harry, and Louis wasn’t able to be there for him because of the mistake he had made, made it hurt so much more.  
  
“Lou?” Harry murmured, breaking through the silence.  
  
“Yeah, love?"  
  
“Why?"  
  
Louis winced. Of course Harry wanted to know why, after having just spent a wonderful Christmas with him, Louis had gone out on New Year’s Eve and slept with another person. Truth be told, Louis wasn’t a hundred percent sure why he had done it. He knew he couldn’t say that, though, could already picture Harry storming off because of Louis’ stupidity, so he took a brief moment to think things over.  
  
He replayed New Year’s Eve in his head, or at least what he could remember of it. There had been a lot of drinking and dancing and joints being passed around, but what Louis remembers most of all was how suffocated he felt that night.  
  
Earlier that evening Harry had called him for a quick chat. He had sounded a bit panicky, wanting to discuss their future again, as if they hadn’t discussed it a  _thousand_  times already.  
  
He asked Louis where he might want to live after they finished University, where he thought the best place to raise a family was, and Louis didn’t understand why the conversation had even been brought up. Harry still had a year of school left in Plymouth. Louis, however, was graduating from Oxford in just a few short months, and had already promised Harry that he would live in Plymouth for a year until Harry graduated, too, and it would be brilliant. It would be everything they had ever imagined. Then they could figure out what came next.  
  
But Louis had slowly started to entertain the idea of living in London, of the city and the people and the rush, where life never stopped moving, where his friends would be. It all seemed so thrilling in his eyes, and maybe that was where he had gone wrong, no longer being on the same page as Harry. It was no secret that Harry wasn’t a huge fan of London. He wanted them to move to Manchester after he finished school so they could be close to their families, as if London was a world away from home.  
  
Louis can remember how he hung up the phone that day and wanted to scream. He felt like he didn’t have any say in the matter, and he hated that Harry wouldn’t compromise with him. If Louis wanted to move to London, he would be moving without Harry, and that was exactly what Harry had told him.  
  
Bitterness spread through Louis as quick as venom. Moving to Plymouth for a year was an idea Louis had tossed out to pacify the boy he loved, because he knew how hard it was for Harry to be without him, but he regretted ever opening his mouth. Making that move to Plymouth would stall his future and hold him back a year, and that was a tough idea to swallow. He wasn’t studying his ass off at Oxford for a law degree for nothing, and the closer he got to graduation, the more excited he was to jump start his career. Not take a year off to play house.  
  
So that night he pretended like Harry didn't exist. Louis wanted to see how different things would be if they split, if he was a free man, and fuck, that was stupid. He drank too much alcohol, smiled at every cute bloke that grabbed his bum, and danced and flirted and fucked his future away with Harry, and he truly regretted every second of it.  
  
He doesn't know what he was thinking that night—how he could just toss away the chances of being with the love of his life. He pleads temporary insanity.  
  
Scratching the back of his neck, Louis let out a low sigh. He noticed he was shaking again due to how nervous and scared he felt. As subtly as he could, he folded his hands into fists and tucked them into his pocket, hoping Harry wouldn't notice.  
  
"Earth to Louis," said Harry, glancing his way. He was annoyed it seemed, not that Louis could blame him.  
  
"Sorry," Louis murmured. "It's just. You're not going to like the reason."  
  
"I still deserve to know."  
  
Louis closed his eyes and forced the words out. "I was mad."  
  
"At me?" asked Harry.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"That's a terrible excuse," he scoffed.  
  
"Let me finish, please."  
  
Harry crossed his arms. "Fine, go on then."  
  
"This is going to sound bad," Louis said, "but give me a chance to explain, okay?"  
  
"Okay."  
  
“Remember our phone call that day? You told me you wanted to live in Manchester after our year in Plymouth, and I told you that I wanted to live in London, and you said you’d never go to London."  
  
“I remember."  
  
Louis stared out at the water, wishing he didn’t have to go any further, because this was going to be the end of them. Louis could feel it in his gut. Harry was going to end this, and then he was going to get on a train back to Plymouth with Louis’ heart, and Louis was never going to see Harry or his heart ever again, and he was going to crumble into nothing.  
  
“I was angry that you wouldn’t compromise with me,” said Louis, “that it was your way or no way, and regrettably, I started to think to myself ‘what if Harry and I weren’t together?’ Then I could go to London, and I could experience all the things that being in a relationship has caused me to miss out on. And fuck, Harry, I know that’s stupid, believe me, I know—"  
  
“So you fucked someone else because I don’t want to move to London, and because you’re missing out on things by being with me? Yeah, it sounds stupid,” Harry snarled. “What the fuck, Louis?"  
  
“I realize it doesn’t make much sense.” Louis’ eyes were stinging. He hated himself so much.  
  
“Makes me wish I’d never asked, actually,” said Harry bitterly. His face was red again, flushed with pure anger and betrayal and hurt.  
  
Louis hated this.  
  
“I made a mistake,” was all he could say. “I’m sorry."  
  
“No. You didn’t just make a mistake, Louis. You ruined everything. W-We—" Harry faltered, voice crackling with emotion. He took a few gulps of air and then said, fiercely, “I wanted to marry you."  
  
Louis’ heart disintegrated.  
  
“I wanted that, too, Harry,” he said quietly, rubbing the dampness from his eyes. “I still want that."  
  
“Not bad enough it seems,” Harry replied, before pushing himself up and out of his seat. He neared the water.  
  
Louis clenched his jaw and got up too, following after him. “How long have you known?"  
  
“Since it happened,” he said. “Niall told me the very next day."  
  
Louis knew he couldn’t be mad with Niall for telling Harry. Niall was Harry’s best mate, and best mates don’t keep information like that from one another. Louis had told Zayn the very next day too, and he remembers Zayn looking at him in disbelief and shaking his head, and saying, _“There’s no way you fucked up that bad. You have to be joking, Louis,”_ but alas, Louis was far from making jokes.  
  
“I wish you had said something,” Louis said.  
  
“Well, I wish you had, too,” said Harry.  
  
“I was waiting until I could tell you in person.” He sighed. “It seemed like the right thing to do."  
  
Harry turned to him with an incredulous look. “For you, or for me?"  
  
Louis frowned for what must have been the hundredth time that morning. “For you, of course,” he said. “You think this is easy for me? I fucked up, I know that, and telling you this, knowing that there’s a good chance that it’s over between us, is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, so please give me a fucking break.  _Please_ , Harry."

  
Harry’s green eyes lingered, welling up with tears again. He didn’t seem to know what to say.  
  
“And if you’ve known this entire fucking time, then why have you been so lovey-dovey this week?” asked Louis.  
  
“Because I don’t want to leave you,” Harry confessed, and Louis’ heart stuttered to a stop.  
  
“And because I feel like such a hypocrite…” he scrubbed a hand over his face, unable to look at Louis. "He was handsome and older, more experienced, and he dangled an A in front of my face, and I thought ‘well, if Lou’s done it, why can’t I do it, too? What could it hurt?’” he said, brows pinched, as if admitting that was like a blow to his stomach.  
  
Louis could relate a tiny bit.  
  
“So I didn’t say no the first time, Louis,” Harry said, "because I wanted it, okay? I fucking wanted it."  
  
“It isn’t the same thing, you know that,” Louis bit out. And it wasn’t, right? Hearing Harry say that though, that he wanted it, made his stomach twist. There was a chance Louis' breakfast might come back up at any moment. “And even if you did want it the first time,” he went on, “I don’t hold that against you, love. I would never...” he shook his head, voice fading out.  
  
“I know,” Harry sighed, eyes falling to the pavement, “I know."  
  
A pause of silence weighed between them. Louis took a tentative step closer, and hesitantly reached up and settled his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “And it wasn’t your fault,” Louis reminded him.  
  
Harry laid a hand over Louis’. “I know.” But it didn’t sound like he did.  
  
They stood like that for a while, staring out at the water as so many things went unsaid between them. With two days left until they boarded the train home, Louis had little hope they would leave Dartmouth happy. Their relationship wasn’t over, but there was a whole lot of wreckage standing in their way and keeping them apart.

 

//

  
That afternoon, they scampered back to the Inn and napped their exhaustion away.  
  
Harry made it clear that he wasn’t comfortable spooning, so they slept with an open space between them, and Louis tried to be okay with that.  
  
Before they fell asleep though, Harry reached for Louis’ hand and looped their fingers together. It wasn’t an  _I love you, or I forgive you_. It would take some time for those words to be said again. But what it did say was I still want you, and though Louis tried, he couldn’t hold back the tears that overcame him, because he was still wanted, after everything he had done, and he still wanted Harry, too.  
  
Nothing would ever change that.

 

//

  
When they woke up that evening, they both had a bit more energy than earlier, and the first thing Harry wanted to do was shower. So while he did that, Louis figured it was the perfect time to finally ring his mum and update her on how his holiday was going.  
She answered on the third ring, never letting his calls go to voicemail. “Wondered when you would ring me, love,” she said, and Louis felt instant relief at the sound of her voice, as if she could cure him of all stress and worry—his mum had a magic touch like that.  
  
He smiled for the first time that day, like truly smiled. "Thought I'd let you worry a bit first," he replied.  
  
She laughed into the receiver. "You're the last child I'm worried about, Lou."  
  
"Way to make a boy feel loved, Mum."  
  
"Oh, don't give me that. You know you're loved, darling. Now," she went on, "tell your mummy how things are going before I hang up the phone."  
  
"Things have been fun. But today everything went to shit, so."  
  
"I'm guessing you told him then?"  
  
"Well, not exactly," said Louis. "I mean, he knows, but he's known all along apparently."  
  
"Oh, Louis," his mum sighed, sounding displeased by that tidbit. "He must be pretty upset."  
  
"Yeah, well, it gets worse," he said as he rolled over onto his back, stared at the ceiling, and listened to the shower spray beat down against the shower floor.  
  
"How much worse can it get?" Worry invaded her tone.  
  
"I don't know if I can talk about it yet," he admitted. "I'll have to ask Harry and see."  
  
Patient as always, she simply said, "Okay," and left it at that.  
  
"It's not over, though," Louis said, his heart jumping in his chest at the mere thought. "Like, I thought it was, you know? And he thought it was, too, but we want to try to mend things if we can."  
  
"You have no idea how happy that makes me, Lou," she said.  
  
"Yeah, I mean, we have loads to talk about obviously, but I think maybe we're gonna be okay."  
  
"Of course, which is understandable. You love each other too much, though. I would be very surprised if things didn't work out between you two."  
  
"Thanks, Mum," a soft smile curled at his lips.  
  
He went on to tell her about the good things that had happened over the past few days, of the beach, and the castle, and the delicious food they had come across. He told her he missed her and dad, and the girls, told her he would see her soon, even if he wasn't sure that was true.  
  
The shower soon shut off, and Harry came waltzing out of the bathroom not long after wearing trousers and a white button up shirt. Louis was just ending the call with his mum, and when he hung up the phone, he looked Harry's way curiously. "You look nice," he said. "What's the occasion?"  
  
Harry smiled, sheepish and shy. "After today, I feel like we need a date."  
  
"A date?" he asked, stumped by Harry's thinking. "Really?" Louis raised both eyebrows.  
  
"Yes." Harry gave him a definite nod. "I think this will be good for us. We need to connect again."  
  
Louis didn't disagree. "I didn't bring dressy clothes with me," he said.  
  
"That's okay," said Harry, waving his concern away. "I'm sure you have a nice jumper you can wear. Go shower and I'll pick it out. It probably needs ironing anyway."  
  
Still stumped, Louis climbed out of bed to shower, shaking his head a little in disbelief.  
  
Maybe they really were going to be okay.

 

//

  
The moon hung bright in the sky as Louis followed Harry's lead through the streets of Dartmouth, their hands looped together loosely.  
  
He smelled like strawberries due to using Harry's shampoo, and he had on his favorite blue jumper that was freshly ironed, and he felt strangely calm, as if secret sharing that morning had lifted this weight off his shoulders. He wondered if Harry felt the same way, but he didn't ask. Harry needed tonight, a night of dinner and romance, a night of normalcy and connection, and Louis was not about to ruin that by asking dumb questions.  
  
A ten minute walk through town brought them to a fancy restaurant they had walked by earlier on in the week. Louis remembers mentioning in passing how much he'd like to try it, and there they were.  
  
Louis squeezed Harry's hand, stomach grumbling already, and they ducked inside.  
  
When they were seated at a table, Harry insisted they sit face to face rather than side by side. Much to Louis' amusement, he went along with the request without saying a word. He always enjoyed sitting across from Harry anyway, running his eyes over Harry's strong jaw line and his full lips and his green eyes, and just  _Harry_  as a whole.  
  
Harry never really noticed, always too drawn to the menu in front of him, but that was okay, Louis never minded. A distracted Harry was interesting to look at, especially when his eyebrows drew together in thought, or he bit down on the corner of his lip because he was undecided about something.  
  
A sudden wave of regret rolled through Louis, washing his feelings of contentedness away as he realized that  _holy shit, I almost lost this boy_ ,and he doesn’t think he could ever handle that. Harry is his other half. He keeps Louis balanced, keeps him going, and he is truly the only person Louis can imagine a future with. Harry is it for him, and he's always known this. He just got sidetracked for a little while by stupid thoughts and dumb decisions.  
  
But they were going to make it. And someday they were going to look back on this and laugh—okay, probably not, but regardless, Louis had a good feeling about their future, or maybe he was being too hopeful. He couldn’t be sure.  
  
"Lou?"  
  
Snapping out of his thoughts, Louis met Harry's eyes from across the table. "Yeah, love?"  
  
"As flattering as it is," said Harry, "maybe you should look at your menu right now instead of me."  
  
Cheeks coloring red, Louis said, “That’s probably a good idea,” and picked up his menu.  
  
They held hands across the dinner table that night, and drank the cheapest bottle of wine available, and surprisingly, Louis felt at ease throughout their meal. They kept the conversation light, talked about school and family and their friends. Harry went on to tell about ten jokes, each worse than the last, but Louis laughed anyway, because it was Harry (and perhaps he'd had too much wine, but he’d never admit it.)  
  
And at the end of the night, dazed by the wine and the love in their eyes, Harry pressed Louis up against their door and kissed him goodnight. It was short, simple, and just enough.

 

//

 

Louis was awakened on Day Nine to the sound of Harry calling out his name.  
  
He stirred beneath the covers, eyes fluttering open to the sight of Harry sitting up beside him. Louis' stomach grumbled at the smell of food.  
  
"Morning," he mumbled, voice riddled with sleep.  
  
Harry smiled. "It's after nine," he said, "and I got you breakfast."  
  
Louis' eyes widened, realizing that the sun was in fact shining bright throughout their room. "Holy shit, I slept," he marveled, pushing himself up. "I actually slept. I can't believe it."  
  
"You did," Harry nodded with a small laugh.

 Louis stretched his arms out and yawned. Then he leaned into Harry, searching for warmth. "How lovely," he murmured, settling his head on Harry's shoulder. "So, breakfast. What've you got?"  
  
Harry gestured to a tray of hot food sitting in front of them. "Well, we've got tea and coffee, of course, and the traditional fry up, some fresh fruit, and a stack of pancakes 'cause I had a craving."  
  
"You had a good craving, love." Louis reached forward for his tea. "Thanks for this. You didn't have to," he said, pressing a small kiss to Harry's bicep.  
  
"I know, but I wanted to do something nice for you. It's our last full day. And you'd do it for me," he said, passing Louis a fork. "So dig in before it gets cold."  
  
"Speaking of our last day," Louis smiled, "is there anything specific you might want to do?"  
  
Harry hummed thoughtfully as he plucked a blueberry from his fruit bowl and passed it to Louis, who took it with great appreciation. "I don't care, just want to spend it with you."  
  
"We could go sailing," Louis said.  
  
Harry looked apprehensive. "Sounds pricey."  
  
Louis cracked a laugh. "Well, it isn't cheap, babe, but I've got enough left over in my holiday fund to cover it, and it could be fun, yeah? We haven't sailed in a while. We could take it out, anchor somewhere nice and spend the day at sea, just the two of us."  
  
"Okay." A grin eased onto Harry's face, dimples appearing.  
  
Excitement bubbled up inside of Louis as he reached for the phone. He needed to call and have everything arranged if they were going to be out at sea by noon.  
  
"Wait," Harry touched his arm to stop him.  
  
The excitement in Louis' belly quickly transformed into nerves as he turned to meet Harry's eyes. "Yeah?"  
  
"I just want you to know," Harry said, words soft and careful, "that we're okay."  
  
Louis' stomach flipped. "Really?"  
  
Harry nodded. "I mean, I haven't, like, forgiven you yet."  
  
"I know."  
  
"And I'm still mad," Harry went on. "It's gonna take some time for me to trust you again, but I still love you, and I need you to know that."  
  
"I do," said Louis, "I know that."  
  
"And if you have questions about the situation with the Professor, you can always ask, okay? You don't have to hesitate or worry about upsetting me. I'm dealing with it."  
  
Louis reached for Harry's hand and gave it a squeeze, nodding. "Okay. I understand. But I need you to know something."  
  
Harry's brows furrowed. "What?"  
  
"I've decided to come to Plymouth after graduation like we planned," Louis told him, "and I won't argue otherwise."  
  
The relief that appeared in Harry's eyes was evident, and it made Louis happy that Harry still wanted him to move to Plymouth for a year, even after all the hurt he had caused.  
  
"Are you sure about this?" Harry asked. "You don't have to. I can make it another year on my own."  
  
"No, Harry, I am," Louis reassured him. "My career can wait, you can't."  
  
What Harry did next surprised Louis. He was swept up in an instant as Harry caught Louis' mouth in a kiss. "I love you," he said. "And I think I want to move to London after I finish school."  
  
Louis' eyes grew as big as a full moon. "Wait, really? What made you decide that?"  
  
"Because," Harry sighed a little, "Niall made me think about it, and I realized that the only reason I keep fighting you on London is because I'm so afraid it's gonna be too much for us. But that hardly makes much sense, does it? Plus there are so many job opportunities in London, and it's not like we're gonna live in Central London anyway, right?"  
  
"Of course not, love," Louis laughed. "Can't afford it."  
  
"Exactly," Harry said. "So we'll find a nice flat in a more quiet area,  surround ourselves with friends, and it'll be great, even if sometimes it isn't."  
  
"Sounds so simple when you say it like that," murmured Louis.  
  
A small smile quirked at Harry's lips. "I'm sure it'll be just the opposite, but we'll make it somehow."  
  
Determined that yes, they would make it somehow, Louis nodded, a coy smile appearing on his face. "Hey, we've made it this long. What's another seventy years, yeah?"

 

//

  
By noontime, with Harry's help, Louis was steering their sailboat out to sea, and they didn't look back—metaphorically, of course. Only onward.


End file.
